Non Omnis Moriar
by tcmbraider
Summary: A drabble collection based on the Classic Tomb Raider games and comics. New drabbles/chapters will be posted regularly.
1. mundus vult decipi

The rhythmic drumming of feet against the soaked forest floor remained the only sound to hear, aside from their owner's labored breathing and the melody of rain dropping onto the vast canopy of trees. Summer had turned into Fall ever so swiftly that year, barely even leaving a trace of the past heat waves behind but coloring the landscape golden instead, the greenish tint of Spring disappearing more and more each day. Even Lara had noticed the sudden drop in temperature and bundled up for her daily run, no matter how much she usually enjoyed the prickling of ice-cold air on her much too pale skin.

 _12 months_. A year had passed since Werner had died; and little more than eleven months since her imprisonment in Czechoslowakia. Despite a certain lack of motive and opportunity, the Czech procruatorial had refused to set her free––––and the prison guards had seen that as a silent approval of whatever torture techniques they deemed necessary to trick her into confessing a crime she had never committed. Yet although they had been little more than brainless brutes, they had been smart enough to keep shackles around her wrists and ankles at all times, no matter how much she had flirted and smiled and tried to get them to take them off.

Even now, her wrists still hurt; bearing the scars the chains had left. A number of horizontal lines crossing her skin in various places, colored in a sickening purple tint and itching as though they had barely begun healing yet. Not that it had been anything more than an annoyance in comparison to the flash of pain shooting up her right ankle with every step forward, but it was still one of the worse injuries she had acquired in _Prague_. And while a broken nose might have been more than a simple grievance for most, Lara had survived much worse already––––and had managed to get back on her feet multiple times when no one had believed she could.

 _Least of all her parents_. Though they had acted as if they had **truly** mourned their only daughter when she had disappeared in Egypt–––if the gaudy statue had meant anything–––they had been the least happy upon her return. _Not that she had talked to them at all back then_.

At the time, Lara had been ripped of anything she had once held dear, anything she had been proud of. Her right ankle and foot, which had been stuck under a rock the size of a baby elephant before Putai had rescued her, had kept her awake for days at a time; and once she had managed to dull that pain with a handful of painkillers, her memories had taken over. Looking back, it was little more than a miracle that she had fought her way back to where she was now after how miserably she had treated her body during that time–––though she still assumed that the locket the shaman had given her had given her somewhat of an unfair advantage. But since Lara still couldn't _remove_ it, there was nothing she could have done to subdue its powers.

 _Inhale. Exhale._

She clenched her teeth and pushed herself to run _faster_ , ignoring the dull pain in her legs as she stabilized her breathing. Whatever had happened in Egypt and Prague didn't matter now. Even Cappadocia had long since faded into just another memory, _just another adventure_ ––––as had Kurtis. He had kept on messaging her after she had returned to England, questioning her about that one kiss they had shared, about her well-being, about the _weather_. Anything to get a response out of her, she presumed.

What could she have told him, anyhow? The kiss had been little more than their shared jubilance after defeating Karel, paired with a slight light-headedness on her part since she had barely eaten that day. She was doing well, for someone whose entire body had been wrecked once and kept demanding her to rest more than she would like to. And the weather was a mixture of clouds and rain, just like it usually was.

A pang of guilt rang through her at the thought. Perhaps she _should_ have responded; if only to have someone to talk to now and again, when life decided to test her. Heaven knew Winston wasn't talkative, nor did she want to bother him with things he couldn't do anything about. And Zip? She often suffered from major headaches for hours after he opened his mouth. And who said Kurtis wasn't in need of help, either? He had shared his powers with her when she had fought against Karel, even though it had almost killed him. Why couldn't she give him something in return––––why couldn't she _ever_ show gratitude?

It had been easy with Putai. The old shaman had been glad just seeing her train once her injuries had healed enough. She had never minded her missteps and the messiness with which she had gobbled down her first _proper_ meal after her accident, nor the many times she had retched during practice. If anything, she had offered Lara a hint of a smile and waited for her to regain her bearings.

Kurtis, however…

He was a storm, just like her–––a wild spirit, though he had kept his heart and his compassion when she had preferred to build a stone wall around her soul. He burned hot, like fire, and she was the very ice that enveloped both sides of the earth like a harsh blanket. They would have killed each other sooner or later, she _knew it_.

Then why did she feel so numb?

Slowing her pace once more, Lara came to a halt. The rain had stopped, though she wouldn't have noticed if the pearls dripping down her arms had been sweat or water. Or cared.

The forest was as still and quiet as she always found it to be, and even as she closed her eyes, she could feel herself relaxing. Perhaps all she needed was another adventure; something new, something that allowed her to forget the last two years ever happened.

 _Inhale. Exhale._

Regarding her throbbing foot with a soft grimace, Lara leaned down to tighten the support brace a tad more. The pain would dull soon enough, that she was sure of; and while she certainly would have preferred to be capable of running for a longer time without having to take multiple breaks in between, there was nothing she could do to speed up the healing process even more than Putai already had. At least she could climb and fight just fine, if Cappadocia had been any proof of that.

 _Cappadocia_. Her feet resumed running on their own accord at the memory of Kurtis's daring grin turning into a malicious smirk, his features distorting, _melting_ , re-shaping… reminding her how gullible she had been. Karel had managed to trick her for as long as he had needed her; and she would be lying if she said it hadn't bothered her.

Mistakes like those were one of the reasons why she usually worked alone.

 _Inhale. Exhale._

 _Mistakes like those proved she was still human after all. Stone-hearted, broken; undeniably human._


	2. Nunc scio quid sit amor

There was nothing left for her to do.

With a rueful expression etched into her face, Lara lifted her chin–––whether to give the impression that no one, human or otherwise, could ever rob her off her pride or to keep from crying, she didn't know. Time itself had become just another factor in her life, a vexing necessity. A reminder of how little she was truly capable of.

She looked up then, observing the tux-wearing man to her right. He had not spoken a word ever since the police had fastened the shackles around her wrists, had not bothered to ask why she refused to leave the hospital even though her wounds had been cleaned and dressed. And perhaps he did not require an explanation. Lara's gaze dropped to the golden ring decorating his left hand, a frown spreading across her forehead just as the headaches set in.

Putai's amulet had saved her life multiple times during the last week, and yet, she felt no gratitude. Her efforts had amounted to nothing in the long run–––Karel was still very much alive, the Cabal had not been dealt with properly, and Kurtis was fighting for his life four hallways down. _Room 197_.

They had not allowed her to see him yet. Maybe they never would.

"All evidence against you is solely circumstantial," the man to her right finally proclaimed, keeping his voice low enough so the guards by the door wouldn't overhear him. "You were in England when the Monstrum began its killing spree, and Von Croy's notebook proves he trusted you. …––– _Miss Croft_?"

Lara had already stopped listening to him. Yes, her overpayed lawyer would free her of the shackles around her wrists soon enough, she had suspected that much. But did it matter? Her bloodshot eyes flickered toward the nurses laughing nearby, then the clock. How long until they would force her to leave?

In a way, her resistence against being incarcerated was utterly ridiculous. Kurtis was a grown man, a _Lux Veritatis_ ––––he could handle much more than a measley wound, and he certainly didn't need her to take care of him. And yet… he had managed to crack her stone heart in the little time they had spent together, and while she had to admit she didn't quite understand it, she didn't want to leave his side now. Even though they had not let her see him at all, possibly figuring he was just another victim of hers.

" _Lara!_ " She stood before her lawyer could prohibit it, her eyes meeting Zip's an instant before his arms wrapped around her waist, although she couldn't return the gesture with her hands bound before her stomach. Was that concern in his eyes? She hadn't seen such an expression crossing his face ever since he had dumped bottle after bottle of expensive liquor down the drain. She grimaced. So she **did** look battered.

"What are you doing here?" she muttered after a long enough moment passed, inclining her chin toward the chair to her right as she sunk back into hers. "And how much did you pay those _brutes_ to let you through?"

He grinned in response. _Not a good sign_. "I told them I had a lingering death wish. But perhaps it was just the fact that I didn't yell at them to move out of the way, or tried to threaten them."

"I'm a bit on edge, you understand."

Of course he did, she could see it in his eyes. When she had spoken to him hours before –––they had, after growing tired of arguing with her, allowed her one single phone call––– she had mentioned Kurtis out of sheer panic, and though she would deny it, her voice had borderlined on being hysterical. A vexing detail she would blame the sleepless nights for, even though she knew better.

"Have you heard anything yet?" His eyes shot toward the man beside her, narrowed. Only when she offered him a soft nod did he relax, reaching for the pale hands she kept intertwined in her lap. "They talked about the surgery when I came in––––apparently he's doing well so far."

What he didn't say was, "for the circumstances". But he was well aware he couldn't hide that part from her, even if she hadn't pursed her lips in response.

"We're all working to clear your name," he went on after a moment, his gaze wandering off toward the hallway she had been staring down for the past four hours. "But for the time being, is there anything you have on you that would prove your story?"

The lawyer sat up straighter beside her. _Of course_.

"Werner's notebook, but they have taken that already–––along with my backpack, and his…" she trailed off, sinking into her seat. "I don't have anything on me except the clothes I wear and those miserable shackles."

He nodded slowly. There was something in his eyes she couldn't quite name; another upsetting result of her lack of sleep and exhaustion. Perhaps he had realized how much Kurtis already meant to her, or he was merely concerned for her general well-being… she didn't exactly care, frankly, but she was still thankful all the same. After all, he was here, with her. The only friend she had left.

"Listen, you'd be the easiest target in this case. Which doesn't mean they have anything to prove you murdered those people–––quite on the contrary." A cough. Lara didn't need to look up to know her lawyer wasn't entirely content with Zip's presence. "They can't force you to sit out here when he's over there fighting for his life; which **you** saved in the first place." He straightened, his dark eyes focusing on the tux beside her. "In case you haven't realized, she won't harm a fly with those cuffs around her wrists. Especially not someone so dear to her."

Lara twitched to protest, but finally clamped her mouth shut. He wasn't _wrong_ ; and while she had her pride, she also knew complaining wouldn't help. The guards had even refused to give her water when she had commented on how gaudy their beards were, and the dehydration only caused her to feel light-headed, not fierce.

A minute passed as silence spread. Her lawyer wasn't authorized to make any decisions regarding her freedom ––he had even ordered a guard to follow her to the bathroom an hour earlier–– and, she figured, her sorrow didn't matter to him either. Yet still, something in his eyes changed the moment he assessed her more closely; the bloodshot eyes, the pale, dry skin, the long, elegant fingers clutching her friend's as if he was the only thing keeping her afloat. Another moment passed.

"I will talk to the detective," he finally said, his jaw set as he rose and left. Not a heart-warming gesture, really, but enough to give her a spark of hope.

"I brought you something to drink." Zip broke the silence quite reluctantly, his hand hovering beside hers for a second longer before he reached into his bag and pulled out a water bottle. The slight, lopsided smirk on his face told her it wasn't solely his concern for her, but also a game–––to see just how tense the guards could get without taking the bag from him. She smiled still, the exhaustion etching into her face. God knew she needed some water.

"Thank you," Lara whispered as she grasped the bottle and lifted it to her lips, her shackles clinging. Yet despite soothing her aching throat, she felt no different––––the uneasiness was still there, as was the dizziness and nausea. And maybe, that was just about what concern truly felt like.

They didn't talk much after that. They didn't need to.

Only when the tux reappeared did Lara lift her gaze from her blood-spreckled shoes. He looked slightly dishelved now, and she feared his answer would be negative until he spoke, arms angled beside his body in a dignified manner that could only mean, _'I'll demand double the amount we agreed upon'_.

"You may see him now, under one condition." She stood before he even managed to end his sentence, her heart pounding against her ribcage in a steady rhythm. "The cuffs will remain in place and a guard will be present at all times."

She could _definitely_ live with that. While the shackles were uncomfortable to say the least, they weren't tight on her wrists; and didn't limit her too much.

Without bothering to voice her agreement, Lara brushed past the man and the guards, hardly noticing when they turned to follow her. _140\. 156._ Another hallway, then to the right. _172\. 188._ Her heart threatened to jump right out of her chest as she approached his room; frightened to see how injured he truly was in comparison to the scratches and bruises she had barely bothered to take notice of.

 _197_. For a moment, Lara hesitated–––a hand hovering just above the door handle. What if he didn't care to see her, after all? He could still have her thrown out at any time, and she wouldn't be able to refuse. But then again, could she throw away this one chance at seeing how he fared?

Having made her decision, she lowered the handle and entered, well aware that her guards would close the door for her.

He looked gruesome. His stomach was dressed in clean bandages yet his skin mostly unbruised, but had lost its olive tint. Blue shadows made his eyes look fallen-in as she approached, her fingers wrapping around his the instant she was close enough, clutching his hand as if it was the only thing left for her. As if feeling his skin against hers would keep the tears from falling.

Lara sunk into a chair beside his bed and caressed his hands with gentle motions of her thumbs, eyes set on his face. He looked calm, in a way, and less like he was about to explode with all the things he didn't say, all the blame he put on himself. It made him look younger, and somewhat more patient. All the serenity she had felt in his presence suddenly disappeared, leaving only guilt and misery behind.

She should have been the one dying, not him. Putai had made that much very clear––––that she would have to give up her life in order to stop Eckhardt. Or was it Karel? Lara shook her head, calming her thoughts, _taking a breath_.

His hands were warm beneath her own; he was not _dying_ , but very much alive. Just because she couldn't see the icy blue of his eyes didn't mean he wasn't a second from waking, or relieved of the pain that had shook him the last time she had seen him. Before _they_ had forced her to let go of his hand to incarcerate her like a wild animal.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, bending down to press her lips against one of his fingers. He didn't reply, of course, and this time, there was nothing she could do to keep the tears from falling. Heaven knew she had not asked for any of this–––she still favored a leg, and her body had been a wreck when she had met Von Croy a few weeks earlier. Perhaps that had been why she hadn't managed to guard her heart as well as she usually did; or perhaps Kurtis was just prone to have _everything_ crash down around him, including her own psychological walls.

Lara inhaled then, straightening her back as she lifted her gaze toward the white wall in front of her. How would she defeat Karel on her own–––how would she go on without his maddening grin and his protective nature? He had known she hadn't needed protection, and still, he had offered it to her every time they had seen each other. Kurtis had always given her just enough time to refuse his help.

But where was he now, that she needed him?

The shackles suddenly felt too tight around her wrists, though she managed to brush a strand of hair from his eyes. Yes, she needed him. If not on a professional level, then on an emotional one. Kurtis was the exact opposite of her; caring, devoted, unfazed by his past while she still had issues going to sleep without mentally returning to Egypt. He was stronger than her in that respect.

A slight movement caught her attention just as her fingers curled back around his own. A twitching muscle in his eye, she presumed–––until she felt something move underneath her fingertips. How long had it been since he had went into surgery? She couldn't tell, and failed to care as his eyes opened slowly, the whites discolored by a burst blood vessel.

"…L-Lara," he breathed, almost smiling. "Are you… how–––"

Tears glistening on her cheeks, she leaned forward to hide her restraints. "Shh–––I'm perfectly fine."

And she was. More than fine, truthfully.


	3. Ghosttown ––– Madonna

This time around, I based my drabble off a song suggested by a friend of mine. I might actually continue doing that, so if you have a song (and, perhaps, a pairing) you would like to see featured here, just send me a message and I'll write a drabble about it. :)

For now, enjoy! The song is Ghost Town by Madonna.

––––––

 _Maybe it was all too much / Too much for a man to take / Everything's bound to break, / sooner or later, / sooner or later. / You're all that I can trust / facing the darkest days. / When it all falls,when it all falls down, / I'll be your fire when the lights go out / When there's no one, no one else around/ We'll be two souls in a ghost town._

Surrounded by semi-darkness, Lara remained perfectly still. Time seemed to freeze as she stood and waited, her fingers curled tightly around the butt of her desert eagle; ready to pounce should he give her any reason to. _She had blindly trusted her senses_ once _–––and she didn't exactly want to repeat her mistake now, that Karel_ might _be defeated_.

"Lara–––" The sound of his voice sent her heart into an unsteady gallop, and even as she lifted her chin in distrust, her hands shook. But no matter her emotional state, she couldn't trust him. "Lara, you can't be serious."

She was. Adjusting her stance, Lara assessed her opponent; the high cheek bones, the deep, icy blue color of his eyes, the soft stubble along his jaw. Even the scar below his left eye was familiar. But hadn't Karel managed to transform into a flawless copy of Kurtis just days prior, using her trust in the legionnaire to manipulate her into assisting him?

Silence fell, and despite the vexed expression on his face, he didn't raise his voice again. Instead, his hands clenched into fists at his sides–––hiding his palms from her view and, thus, giving her just another reason not to trust him.

"Where's your Chirugai?" she demanded, thanking the heavens for the strength in her voice. The heat inside the cavern became almost unbearable now, though she would rather die than show her discomfort. "The periapt shards?"

He took a step forward; careful, ready to halt anytime should she threaten to open fire on him. Yet she merely watched him, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he approached her. It was hard to resist the urge to step backward, to turn her back on everything she had lived through during the last two years and sprint to the surface before the whole _damn_ cave would explode and bury them all inside––––but she did her best to remain cold and collected, to not show any weaknesses. Except for the racing of her heart perhaps, and the sweat dropping down her forehead.

"Burnt," he finally responded, a muscle in his cheek twitching as if it pained him to even think about his beloved weapon going up in flames. _Which didn't prove anything_. "Along with your locket."

Despite better judgement, Lara couldn't help but drop her shoulders slightly in relief. After not being able to remove it for so long, it felt like a heavy load had just fallen off her back; not that it made him sound any more believable. There was no proof Karel had died in the first explosion, and she wasn't keen to find out whether or not he had _after_ getting back to the surface. Even if it meant dooming them both.

"Show me your palms." He was close enough now that she could inspect his face further; the twitching nerve in his cheek, the clenched jaw, the badly-hidden anger in his eyes. And still, he obliged to her command as he stretched out his hands toward her. _No sign of scarring, besides a few minor injuries_. And no glyphs.

Lara let out a soft sigh and lowered her gun. Karel couldn't hide his glyphs even when he transformed––and she didn't have any more reasons to keep doubting that it was Kurtis standing before her.

It was then that he grasped her chin and forced her to look at him. _Actually_ look at him––not admiring his strength or envying him for the mental and physical strength oozing out of him, but seeing him for who he really was and what he had lived through to get to where he was. A man shaped by the thing he hated most, the past he had tried to run away from when he was too young to understand how easily shadows could follow one anywhere.

"He is gone, Lara," he said, the bitter undertone suddenly missing from his deep, melodic voice. "There is nothing left to fear."

She grimaced in response. How could he speak of fear so deliberately, when she couldn't even accept that she was, in fact, afraid–––of her past, of Karel, of the dreams that kept her awake most nights, of getting _too close_ …?

She felt him sigh more than she heard it, only raising her gaze to meet his when he let go of her chin to rest one hand on her cheek instead. His touch was light as a feather on her pale, dirt-encrusted skin, yet it seemed to warm her entire body; whether or not that was caused by his powers or a mere reaction to his proximity she couldn't tell.

"If Nephilim had been invincible, they wouldn't have feared the Lux Veritatis as much as they did," he whispered, his thumb gently stroking her cheek as if to calm her. Was her heart still racing? She couldn't feel anything but his touch, his warmth surging through her battered body. "Everything that happened–––it was a nightmare, for me as much as for you, but it's over now. It's finally over, and we are free to wake up in the morning without having to think about it ever again." He paused, taking a step back and dropping his hands, his eyes glimmering in the dim light. "But we need to leave _now_."

Lara nodded stiffly and risked a glance over her shoulder. The fire was spreading rapidly, and would certainly turn the entire cave into dust, but something kept her from running. They had defeated Karel and destroyed the last Nephilim Sleeper, that much was true–––but hadn't Putai mentioned she would lose her life in the process?

Perhaps she hadn't 'seen' Kurtis. Kurtis, who had given his life to protect her; Kurtis, who had shared his powers with her when she had been battered and broken and just inches away from certain death, even though it had weakened him immensely.

Her gaze found his the very moment another explosion went off further down the corridor. She felt the urge to cover her ears now, shield herself from the noise and the fire and the heat; yet all she could possibly do was stare into his glacier-eyes, silently thanking him for everything he had done to keep her safe. He wouldn't have _needed_ her to finish the job, and still, he had taken a periapt shard to his thigh just to give her enough time to run from Karel.

She didn't ask why. All she needed to know was written in his eyes, in his smile as he offered her his hand and inclined his chin toward the corridor that would lead them back outside.

 _The world has turned to dust / All we've got left is love / Might as well start with us / Singing a new song, something to build on._

And she didn't hesitate to accept his offer, to follow him into a new reality and out of her personal hell.


End file.
